Paladin
by Sorafiena
Summary: This is a story that I started a long time ago.  Hopefully I'll get to keep adding!
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Running.

Crashing.

Falling.

Careful! Watch out for that tree! Got to keep going. Can't stop now.

Running.

Crashing.

Falling.

With a struggled sigh Rider collapsed, too tired to move on; too afraid to stay put. He forced himself onto his hands and knees, panting. Each breath was a strangled gasp for air—each step a montage of new pains whizzing through his body.

What was that?

The boy raised his head and looked around, straining his ears against the sound of his racing heart and labored breathing. Was it possible that they were still after him? He had run a long distance, thinking of nothing other than the path ahead of him, and those in pursuit behind. With an involuntary shudder the young boy scrambled off the path and into the underbrush. It was cold. He was hungry. Weariness fogged his mind and made his eyelids heavy. What would it matter if they caught him? They might imprison him, yes. Kill him even, perhaps. But isn't that exactly what he wanted to do a few months back? Just lie down and die. What was life with no friends, no family, and nothing to call his own, worth living for?

Death.

The word had sounded pleasant when he spoke it. Inviting, even. But that point in his life was long since past. He had a new reason for living; a new light in the darkness that guided him, encouraged him. He had uncovered the truth to his existence.

He was a Paladin; the last in the line of these great warriors.

He was to be the hero; the one who delivered the people of Shacrazul. They would look up to him, shower him with praises that not even the greatest noble in the king's court could imagine. He would be thought of as the life-giver and soul-claimer; looked upon in fear and awe. There would be whispers of the great things he had accomplished and the dangers he had yet to face. All the girls in the village would crowd around him and gather together in their homes just to speak of him. All the men would no longer look on him as a lowly thief, but as their savior, for he would become the "Friend-Of-Dragon-And-Elf"; "Almighty-Giver-Of-Life-And-Freedom".

But Rider knew not of the great things he would accomplish throughout his lifetime. He knew only that his Uncle Rarmer had called him a "Paladin", and that ever since there had been evil creatures and shadowy beings he had never seen, only heard of, in constant pursuit over him. He had been forced to leave the village and flee to the farthest corner of the darkest part of the forest. This and nothing more occurred to him as he curled up in a tight ball, and slept.


	2. Chapter One:  Dream, or Destiny?

_**D**__**arkness. It surrounded him, shrouding his thoughts in a blackness not known to him. It mocked him, testing not only his strength, but his courage, too. He shivered and peered to his left.**_

_** Nothing.**_

_** He sighed. Turning to his right, he tried again.**_

_** Still, nothing.**_

_** But wait…**_

_** What was that?**_

_** A small light appeared, fighting its way through the darkness to greet him. It started as a small flicker; like a flame that danced above a candle. Then it grew. It began to spread, widening and lengthening before his eyes, almost like a doorway that glimmered with promises of home waiting just beyond it.**_

_** He scrambled to his feet, squinting against the brightness of this newfound hope. What was it?**_

_** He began to run.**_

_** His feet pounded the unseen ground, creating echoes that repeated all around him. A new feeling was blooming inside him, spreading throughout him. It energized him. He could feel his limbs again. Or, so he though.**_

_** It wasn't until his hand began to tingle and grow hot that he realized he had been cold. Terribly, terribly cold.**_

_** It was getting closer. If he stretched out his arm, he could touch it.**_

** Oh, no.**

_**The light began to fade. It shrunk and dimmed, all the while seeming to move farther and farther away from him. He dove for it.**_

_** Too late.**_

_** It was gone. His one hope snuffed out like an oil lamp.**_

_** He struggled to his knees, shaking all over. The feeling of warmth that had accompanied him for those few, precious moments, was leaving him. The cold returned. He could feel it seeping into his bones, cramping his arms and legs.**_

_** A tear rolled down his dirty cheek, leaving a small track in the grime as it went.**_

** Plop.**

_**It hit the hard ground, and was gone.**_

_** Gone.**_

_** For a brief second, he wished he would disappear just as that small tear had. He wished he could vanish before the eyes of the creatures he could feel lurking just outside his conscience, easily maneuvering around his attempts to identify them. That would solve his problem. He would no longer have to bear the thought of living his life in this dark confinement.**_

_** He began to sob. The tears came in sheets, skirting his cheeks and disappearing. The sobs racked him. He could no longer hear himself think over the sound of his own weeping.**_

_** He could not remember the last time he had cried.**_

_** Perhaps he had cried when his mother had died, or when his Uncle Rarmer had refused to allow him to keep the mall dog he had found in the streets of the village. **_

_** He couldn't remember. It didn't matter now, anyways. Now, all those things were gone; snatched from him much as he would snatch the chickens from their coops back at the farm.**_

_** He hung his head, letting his forehead press against the cool floor beneath him. He sat like that as the time passed him by, not knowing, nor caring, how long her had been in that position in this chamber of darkness.**_

_** Suddenly, a bright light flashed before him.**_

_** He sensed it first, before her heard it. A presence; on unlike anything he had encountered before. It sent shivers down his spine.**_

_** Then the panting started.**_

_** It was a jagged, sharp intake of breath that sounded as though the savage being he knew was there had run a long way and was now out of breath. It came and went in unnatural patterns, distorted by the sound of a low rumble that must have been a growl.**_

_** He slowly, tentatively raised his head, tears still streaming down his face and blurring his vision. He could just make out the form of a tall, hunched figure that stood about twenty yards away. The monster had fangs that curved down his jaws and twisted into rough, circular figures at the ends. His gnarled face twitched unusually with every intake of breath. Hollow, red eyes glared at him, froze him in his kneeling position.**_

_** A new feeling rose from the depths of his being to meet him. He identified it almost immediately, grasping it before it paralyzed him.**_

_** Fear.**_

_** He felt fear like he had never felt before. He could not move. He could scarcely breathe. He gasped, taking in every ounce of air that he was graced with. It felt as though this great, panting ghoul was sucking in all the oxygen, leaving him to drown in the fear that emanated from the creature.**_

_** He squeezed his eyes closed, hoping with every fiber of his being that this monster was not as harmful as he knew it was. He hunched over, wrapping his arms around his head and rocking back and forth on his knees.**_

_** A strangled, muffled sound that rose and fell filled the silence.**_

_** Laughter.**_

_** The beast was laughing at him.**_

__**Laugh all you want.**_** He didn't care now who laughed at him and who didn't. He knew he would die. He could feel it in his very soul.**_

_** With a swift, fluid motion, the beast lurched forward, rushing him.**_

_** It was over. All had been lost.**_

_** He glanced up and saw the horrid ghoul leaning over him.**_

_** He couldn't help it. He screamed. He screamed with all his might, hoping—praying—that one of the other creatures that now closed in around him would take pity on him and beat the other down.**_

_** But none of these foul beings cared whether he lived or died.**_

_** And so he screamed.**_

_** "Rider!"**_

_** He forced his eyes open, whimpering, trembling. He looked into the faces of each of the ghastly creatures staring down at him with those horrid, penetrating red eyes.**_

_** "Rider!"**_

_** He had heard something—faint, far-off voice that seemed to bring comfort and courage with it.**_

_** But what had it said?**_

_** He begged the voice to call out to him once—just once more—and rescue him from Fear's clutches, so he might pass from this world with the knowledge that he did not cower nor cry when Fate took its toll on his life.**_

_** "Rider!"**_

_** It was his name.**_

_** The voice called out to him, calling him by his name.**_

_** A weak smile played about the corners of his mouth.**_

_** Just beyond the beasts that encircled him he could make out the form of a strong man, silhouetted by a ray of bright light and wielding a heavy sword above his head. This new-comer slashed through the web of monsters, making his way towards him with such ease and suck grace, Rider knew he could only be of the highest of ranks.**_

_** Then why, pray tell, would such a fine noble come to rescue him, a lowly thief of a nobody?**_

_** It didn't matter. This man brought with him a hope like none that had pierced through this deadly darkness to guide him back to his uncle's humble home. He knew that, if this man will it, he might live to lead his life for just a little longer.**_

_** The brawny figure of his savior cut down the last of these demon creatures and stopped to tower over him. He held out a hand in welcoming as he slid his gleaming blade back into the scabbard upon his back.**_

_** Rider could not make out his face. The glare of the light that shone from some unseen opening in the black void beyond masked that man's features in a veil of darkness.**_

_** Darkness. Like the darkness that still surrounded him. Like the darkness he had nearly died in. How could someone of such radiance and such bravery garb himself in the same evil that had suffocated him not but a few moments before?**_

_** The man flashed him a smile of such brilliance, it warmed him to the core. "Not all things that are dark are evil; and not all things that are bright are good. A man of good virtue and strong upbringing can garb himself in the darkest of all cloths, and yet have the purest and truest heart of any man there ever was—much as an evil man might choose to hide himself behind the luster and glimmer of the brightest and purest of lights to deceive the weak minded into thinking he is who he appears to be. But you are not weak minded. Do not let deceit close your eyes to what is right in this world. Let it motivate you to fight against what it wrong."**_

_** Rider contemplated the words that had just been shared with him. They brought a torrent of mixed emotions swirling around within him, garbling his mind and confusing his body. "Who are you?" He managed to muster.**_

_** "I am a friend."**_

__**He sat bolt upright.**

** Where was he?**

** Glancing around the room he occupied, he confirmed that he was in his bedroom, back at his uncle's old farm.**

** Then where did the darkness go? And all those savage beasts that had rushed him? And that man? The man who had saved him.**

** A dream.**

** He had been dreaming. Rider sighed, letting himself slouch against the pillow. He pulled the covers of his bed up to his chin as he shivered. He could see his breath as a thin mist in the icy air whenever he exhaled.**

** What time was it?**

** He peered at the small window on the far side of the room. The glass was too foggy to see clearly out of, but he could tell the sun hadn't yet risen to declare the beginning of another day of hard work. He was free to sleep for another hour. Yet something inside him told him that he would not be sleeping again. Not this morning, anyway.**

** Rider shoved the blankets off him and swung his legs out of bed. He took a moment to stretch and yawn, trying to awaken his mind and his body, both of which were still fuzzy drowsiness. He rubbed the back of his neck, scratched his head, and stood. Making his way over to the small chest at the foot of his bed, he began to brood over the odd dream he had had.**

** Was it really just a dream?**

** It had seemed much too real to be something so insignificant as a mere figment of his imagination. Those piercing red eyes of the fiends that had surrounded him had brought him such a real feeling of fear, he thought he would die from the shear intensity of it all. And the gleaming blade and dashing smile of the man who had rescued him. Weren't they real? They were real enough, to be sure. He still had a sense of the warmth and comfort they had brought him, even on such a chilly morning.**

** He kneeled before the chest and swung the heavy lid open. Digging around in the piles of homemade work clothes that littered the bottom of the chest, he removed a soft, cream-colored shirt that was just a bit too big for him; his ratty, patched up work breeches; and a leather vest that fit him quite nicely.**

** And what about those words the man had spoken to him? Surely they could not have been anything his small mind could have put together so wonderfully. After all, he was just a meager farm boy with a notorious reputation as a small time thief.**

** He grunted as he struggled into his breeches.**

_**I will admit I have no earthly clue where any of the chaos I just dreamed up came from. But if anyone asks, I feel confident in my ability to truthfully tell them, 'I'm sorry, but I'm not the one who came up with that phrase. You'll just have to find yourself another wise man to come up with helpful, motivational saying to get you through your day, as I am physically incapable of doing so.'**_

__**He yanked his shirt over his head and pulled his arms through the sleeves. Then, taking the leather vest gingerly in one hand, he slid one arm into one of the vest sleeves and grabbed the belt that was draped across the bed with the other. He securely fastened the belt around his slim waist and tugged the vest over his other arm and into place. Next, he snatched his boots from his bedside and pushed his cold feet into them. He ran a hand through his dark hair and went to stand at the small, dirty mirror that hung near the window. He knew he would get cold today when he was sent to collect the fire wood and attend his other outside chores, seeing as he didn't have a cloak or jacket as some of the other, more fortunate villagers had. His thin shirt and open vest would do little to help him fend against the winter winds. But at least he did have **_**some**_** sort of a vest. That was an improvement.**

** With a half-hearted nod, the young man turned on his heel and quietly crept out of his room, closing the door behind him. He swung his head around, causing his dark locks to fly about before settling back over his ears. He squinted, peering down the long, dark hallway of his uncle's farm, trying to determine if he had disturbed anyone from their sleep. All was silent throughout the house.**

** When Rider was completely satisfied that he had not roused anyone from their slumber, he sighed with contentment and continued down the hall and to the back door. **

** What were the chances that his odd dream was something of a prophecy? He thought this possibility over as he strode through the crisp morning air to the barn on the fringes of his uncle's property, then dismissed it with a firm shake of his head. He was a figure of such little importance in this world, he felt certain that there was no way he could have been blessed with such a gift as a prophecy. And even if his dream was such a thing, there was no possible way this foretelling could be of any more significance than the loaves of bread he sometimes managed to salvage from the baker when the day was over. He shrugged and continued his trek through the bitter cold morning.**

** But on the other hand, what if this prophecy was the real deal? And what if, by some mischance of definite mistake, it was of some sort of significance—whether it be to him, the town, or the whole nation of Shacrazul? All the prophecies he'd ever heard of had come to a person in some sort of a code or riddle. Was he sure he would be smart enough—seeing as he was a boy of very little education, apart from how to manage his chores—to decipher such a thing?**

** "Bah! Why do I care whether this darned thing is a dream, a prophecy, or some sort of song and dance routine I'm destined to write up and perform? What is the point in getting so worked up about it?" He shivered and wrapped his arms about him, trying to contain the small amount of body heat he produced. "Let's say this is a prophecy. I go tell Rarmer about it, he laughs, I get a whipping, and life goes on. From the sounds of it, I'd prefer it to be just a natural dream! I get plenty of whippings as it is. I don't need any more coming to me from things I can't necessarily control." He barked a humorless laugh and stomped the last few feet to the barn.**


End file.
